It was Christmas Eve and Mrs Santa was in a panic.
“The sink is blocked again!” she cried. “The labyrinthine system of drains in this house is a nightmare. Where are we going to find a plumber on Christmas Eve?”
“I’ll give Rudolf Lenin a call,” Santa replied. “He’s the best plumber in the business..”
“Not that hothead commie revolutionary!” his wife protested.
“This is no time for knee-jerk, right-wing reactionary responses,” Santa pointed out. “You may not agree with his politics, but Rudolf the Red knows drains dear.”

Sadly, Santa couldn’t call Lenin.  It was Christmas Eve, so the telephone book had no L.  So Santa’s youngest son had to do the dirty, messy job himself, seeing as how he was the subordinate Claus thereabouts.